Finley

Finley was a gorgeous little boy, full of personality. He lived for 15 precious weeks and left behind a legacy that will be cherished forever.

Finley spent his life under the comfort and care of St Michael’s Neonatal Intensive Care (NICU) and Bristol Children’s Hospital.

His mum, Georgia, told us the story of her little boy’s hospital journey and the people who were there to support her family through an impossibly hard time.

“My partner, Adam, and I welcomed our beautiful boy, Finley, into the world on 21 September 2025 in Swindon. It was the day our lives changed forever, and the day our journey in Bristol began.

My pregnancy had been a difficult and uncertain eight months, and when Finley arrived, we held onto the hope that we might be home within a couple of weeks, that this was just a small bump at the end of a long road.

We had no idea that it was only the beginning.

The day before my planned C-section, I suffered a partial placental abruption. This meant that Finley hadn’t been receiving enough oxygen.

When our baby was born, he was so poorly that the specialist team from SoNAR (the Southwest Neonatal Advice and Retrieval service) were called to rush him to St Michael’s NICU in Bristol.

Finley spent his first ten and a half weeks on NICU, surrounded by people who can only be described as angels on earth. In those early days, when everything felt so uncertain and overwhelming, they became our strength, our reassurance, and our hope. Every single member of staff cared for Finley, and for us, with a kindness we will never forget.

During that time, we stayed in Cots for Tots House, which quickly became so much more than just a place to sleep. It was our home when we felt so far from our own. We met people who came into our lives as strangers and left as lifelong friends, bonded by experiences only we could truly understand. The warmth and support of the Family Accommodation team carried us through some of our hardest days.

We were incredibly fortunate to have that ‘home from home’ and to be just moments away from Finley whenever he needed us, or whenever we needed to be close to him. That closeness meant everything.

Georgia, Finley’s mum

What we thought would be a short stay became the start of a four-month journey, one filled with love, fear, resilience, and a strength we never knew we had.

Our time on NICU was a rollercoaster, full of hope, fear, and moments that felt impossibly heavy. But deep down, we always knew this journey was never going to be straightforward.

Finley had multiple holes in his heart. On top of his heart conditions, he was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease. He also had some issues with feeding and his throat, for which he did have surgery.

We’d find ourselves whispering around Finley when talking about his MRI scans, half-joking that he somehow always managed to wriggle his way out of going. Even then, his personality shone through.

Before long, NICU didn’t feel like a hospital anymore; it felt like home. In a strange, unexpected way, it became a place we felt safe, a little bubble where the outside world couldn’t quite reach us. The nurses, doctors, and consultants weren’t just caregivers; they became our family.

Cots for Tots House truly was a home from home. People like Lucy, Mandy, and Lisa… they are some of the kindest souls you could ever meet. Seeing them each morning brought us comfort on even the hardest days, and even now, we look forward to the times we’ll see them again in Bristol.

Nothing prepares you for leaving NICU. You don’t realise just how much it has become part of you, how much the people and the place mean to you, until the moment you have to say goodbye. But Finley was too big and too old to stay, and so, on 5 December, we made the move to Dolphin Ward, the cardiac ward at Bristol Children’s Hospital.

Dolphin Ward gave us something we had been longing for: the chance to simply be Finley’s mum and dad. We stayed overnight, held him through the quiet, fragile hours of the early morning, comforted him when all he wanted was a cuddle or to curl up beside his mummy.

That’s where he really began to find his voice. At the time, we thought he was calling out because of the usual things: hunger or a dirty nappy. But looking back now, it feels like he was trying to tell us something more, something we couldn’t yet understand.

Our time on Dolphin Ward became ‘operation heart surgery’. The surgery was set for 22 December. But everything changed on 19 December, when Finley suddenly took a turn for the worse and was rushed to the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit (PICU).

That night, he was cared for by Jess, one of the nurses from Dolphin. Jess stayed with Finley until 2:30 am and kept checking on him throughout the rest of her shift, even though he had moved wards. We will never, ever be able to thank her enough for the love, care and unwavering presence she gave Finley, staying right by his side when he needed it most.

In the early hours of the next day, Finley was intubated after several attempts. At the time, we didn’t realise that we had entered the final chapter of his journey, the hardest four weeks of our lives. We held onto hope, convincing ourselves it was another pulmonary aspiration, something antibiotics could fix. But when the consultants were worried, we knew we had to be too.

Finley developed sudden, severe pulmonary hypertension – a serious condition where the arteries that supply the lungs narrow, which can cause the right side of the heart to overexert itself. We hoped, desperately, that as the infection cleared, things would improve, but they didn’t.

A couple of days after Finley was admitted to PICU, he was in a really bad condition, and his heart rate was unusually high.

The Grand Appeal’s Music Therapist, Claire, came over and sang to him and played her ukulele. It was really soothing – not only for Finley, but also for Adam and me.

Georgia, Finley’s mum

On Christmas Day, we sat down with a consultant and heard the words no parent ever wants to hear: things weren’t looking good.

Then, on New Year’s Day, our worst fears were confirmed. Finley wasn’t going to make it.

That day, surrounded by our family, Finley was baptised by Denis from the hospital Chaplaincy team. It was peaceful, beautiful, and filled with so much love. It’s a moment we will hold onto forever.

The two weeks that followed were a blur of good days and heartbreaking ones. We lived moment to moment, quietly preparing ourselves for what we knew was coming.

We found out that Finley had a genetic mutation, which explained his issues, head to toe. The disorder was the reason he had feeding issues, heart defects, renal issues, certain facial features and much more.

On 16 January 2026, we spent our final day with Finley, alongside two incredible nurses who supported us every step of the way. We held him, sang to him, read to him, pouring every ounce of love we had into those precious hours.

Karl from the play team came to see us, and together we made hand and foot moulds – tiny, perfect keepsakes that I will treasure for the rest of my life.

Throughout our entire time in PICU, Adam and I stayed in Paul’s House. Once again, we were surrounded by kindness. Being so close to the hospital meant we were never far from Finley, and the support we received from such an incredible charity carried us through the darkest days.

At Christmas, we were given a beautiful hamper, and the fridge was always stocked with meals. These small acts of kindness meant the world when everything else felt so overwhelming.

Georgia, Finley’s mum

We were cared for in ways we will never forget. And because of that, I will always do everything I can to give back and support a cause that will forever hold a place in our hearts.”

Finley’s legacy shines on at Bristol Children’s Hospital thanks to his loving parents, Georgia and Adam.

Since Finley’s passing, his family and friends have raised over £5,000 for The Grand Appeal and Cots for Tots. We can’t thank them enough for their selflessness and dedication to supporting other babies like Finley.